


Liminal

by DoctorBilly



Series: Chimæra [6]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Billyverse, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-16
Updated: 2014-11-29
Packaged: 2018-02-25 14:37:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 14,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2625389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DoctorBilly/pseuds/DoctorBilly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This story starts a little under three years after "Rift".</p><p>Billy has a daughter, Hero Luziya Violette Holmes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Major canon character death implied prior to the beginning of the story.

17th July 2022, Berkshire

 

Lestrade hangs back. He isn't one of the family. He doesn't really have any business being here. He hasn't even been invited.

He looks around the small crowd. Spots people he knows. Donovan, newly promoted to Detective Inspector; Dimmock, his other DI; " _Why are they here?_ " he thinks. Jack Logan, unusually alone; Detective Sergeant Thompkiss, standing a foot behind Billy Wiggins, as usual. " _What is it between those two?_ " he wonders.

"I'm glad you came, Gregor."

Mycroft Holmes speaks quietly. He has approached very quietly from behind him.

"Are you? I wasn't sure I'd be welcome. I wasn't invited. I found out when and where it was from Dimmock…"

"My brother's emotions manifest themselves in mysterious ways, Gregor. He thinks he does not deserve your sympathy, so he arranges things so as to make you and your sympathy unavailable to him. Fortunately, you ignored his arrangement."

"He won't want to talk to me…"

"Perhaps not right now, but later, he will."

 

*********

 

Luce grabs a glass of red wine for Billy and one of orange juice for himself from the buffet table and takes them out to the terrace. It is bright and sunny. The lawns are beginning to look parched, but the flower beds are filled with colour. Billy is chatting to Dimmock. They have not seen each other for months.

"Thanks Lucien. I need this. Theo's telling me you're thinking of sticking as a sergeant. I thought you were on the fast track programme…"

"Yes. But if I move up to inspector, it'll have to be in uniform. I like CID, and I like the computer work. I couldn't hope to make DI for a few years, yet. There aren't many openings, and I'm still a bit young. Mr Dimmock here would block me if I tried to beat his record…"

Dimmock laughs.

"I was thirty one, nearly thirty two when I was made DI. You're what, twenty eight?"

"Nearly twenty nine, sir."

"In any case, you're the best hacker I've got. And in case you're worried, I've already spoken to DCI Lestrade. Sally's not going to poach you. She can get her own IT man."

Billy laughs. "He's really good, isn't he? Cracks codes faster than Shezz."

Lucien smiles. He has had lessons from Queenie Fletcher, but he hasn't told Dimmock. He touches Billy's arm.

"There's food inside, Bill. You should probably eat something."

"Yeah. Let's go in."

Billy turns and almost mows Lestrade down.

"Greg." He rebalances himself. "Sorry. You crept up…"

"Yeah. That's what we do, us detectives. How are you?"

"All right. Working on a new thing. Living in France, mostly. I've got a place I'm doing up just outside Aigues-Mortes…"

"The Camargue? Do you like it?"

"Yeah. Cowboys and bullfights." Billy laughs. "Flamingos. It's brilliant."

"I always meant to take you to see the flamingos…"

"Yeah, you always did like showing me new things." He smiles, briefly, remembering some of the "first times" with Lestrade. "Still, no point in what-ifs now. Too much water under too many bridges. How are you?"

"All right. Still doing the job. You know…"

"You seeing anyone?"

"No. Too old for all that now."

"You're not old, Greg. And you still look good. There must be loads of blokes who'd think themselves lucky…"

"Not interested. Do you see anything of Arkady?"

"Yeah. He's in France, too. We're still together."

"Oh. But he's not here with you?"

"Busy. And I'm only here for Shezz."

"What is it with Thompkiss then? Heard he was living on your boat. And he's always wherever you are…"

"He's my friend, Greg. I haven't got many people I can spend time with, hang out with. I hoped you might be one, too…"

Lestrade sniffs. His voice cracks when he speaks.

"I can't. I'm sorry, Bill. I just…I'm not in a place where I can do that."

Billy smiles tightly.

"I should have expected that, I suppose. I'll see you at whatever the next event is, then. Look after yourself, Greg."

Billy turns and walks inside the Holmes country house, blinking a bit. He catches up with Luce at the bottom of the staircase.

"Bit of a place, this. All the ancestral portraits up the stairs."

Billy huffs out a laugh.

"My first time here. I've never seen them. Wonder if any of them look like me?"

They take a walk up the staircase gallery . One of the portraits looks exactly like Billy. " _It must have been painted from a photograph_ ," he thinks. It hangs alongside paintings of Sherlock and Mycroft at the foot of the stairs, above two formal photographs of children; Billy's daughter, Hero, white blonde curls tumbling almost to her shoulders, in a dark red velvet dress,  taken in France, the previous Christmas. The other photograph is of a baby boy, just starting to hold up his own head. He is lying on a sheepskin rug, wearing a traditional pale green romper suit, the colour setting off his bright coppery hair. The child is Lennox Gawain Sherrinford Logan-Holmes. Both photographs had been Christmas gifts for Viola Holmes.

A painting of Viola, Billy's brothers' mother, is on the next level. There is no portrait of Siger, their father, and his, but Billy is sure there would have been, once. Going up further, grandparents, great grandparents, great-greats. There are some siblings, aunts, uncles in the earlier generations.

Billy compares their looks to his own, and his brothers' looks. Noses are fairly obviously in the genes. Hair too. Lots of thick, dark hair. Some straight and black " _like mine"_ , some curly, dark brunette. No mid-brown, no 'mouse', no 'fair'. A few redheads, generally dark ginger, like Mycroft. And a good sprinkling of very pale blonds.

 

*********

 

"Why are you here, Lestrade?"

"He was a friend, once."

"Not for a long time. I did not ask you to come."

"I know. I came anyway."

"Go. There is no need for you to stay. I do not need your _pity_."

Sherlock turns on his heel and goes into the house.

Lestrade swallows his hurt and starts walking down the driveway. He did not bring his car. He had planned to get drunk. He still might, when he gets home. " _Shouldn't have come,_ " he thinks. " _Why did I think he might want me here?_ " He hears a crunch over gravel behind him. Car tyres. He steps aside to let the vehicle pass.

"Need a lift, sir?"

Luce opens the passenger door.

"You not giving Dr Wiggins a lift, Thompkiss?"

"Coming back for him later, sir."

Lestrade climbs into the car, and Luce pulls out. They drive for a while in silence. Eventually, Lestrade can't hold the question in.

"What's going on between you and Bill? He told me he was still with Arkady…"

"He is, sir. They're like honeymooners when they get together. But they go for months sometimes without seeing each other. Work, you know. Arkasha's got stuff that keeps him in France…"

"So where do you fit in?"

"I'm Bill's friend. Someone he can talk to. He finds it hard making friends. He's only really got two or three that I know of. If he gets sad, I'm a shoulder to cry on. If he gets scared, panicky, I help him through it."

"Do you sleep with him?"

"No, sir."

"Sorry. That was out of order."

"Yes, sir. I know you two have history, sir. You hurt him today." 

"I didn't mean to. We seem to do nothing _but_ hurt each other."

"Can't you be friends, sir?"

"I wish we could. Do you know much about our history, Thompkiss?"

"No, sir. Only that he loved you."

Lestrade closes his eyes in pain.

"Not as much as he loved Arkady." He frowns. "You're always with him. Do _you_ love him, Luce?"

"Yes sir. I don't think he knows. I've no expectations. He's my friend."

"You might find that's not enough, one day."

"Yes, sir."


	2. Wait, is this drugged?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 25th September, 2022
> 
> London
> 
> Lestrade and Sherlock drown their sorrows

"Why don't you tell me to piss off?"

"The way you did me? Dunno. Glutton for punishment, I suppose."

Sherlock sits on Lestrade's fire-escape terrace, smoking. Lestrade stands with a glass of whisky, looking out over the bit of London he can see.

"Anyway, you had an excuse."

"I was horrible to you. And you have never been other than kind to me."

"You were upset."

"Yes.. But that is not a good enough reason."

"You were mourning…"

"It wasn't really him, you know. Not at the end. Not for quite a while, really."

"That doesn't make it easier to bear."

"It doesn't." Sherlock knocks back the rest of his own glass of whisky. "May I have another?"

"Looking to get drunk?"

"Getting high is out of the question, here. Not likely to get laid. Drunk is the next best thing. Then I'm less likely to embarrass myself by remembering that I wanted to molest you."

Lestrade sighs. "Sherlock…"

"I know. It's indecent to be thinking of that so soon."

"Were you…"

"Still sexually active? No, of course not. Not for a long time. The drugs had side-effects…"

"Oh. I thought…"

"It wouldn't have been fair to betray him. I've been celibate for three years."

"Me too."

"Because of Arkasha. I'm sorry for that, too."

"Not your fault."

"I can't help feeling sorry I introduced those two. What it did to you…"

"I could have fought. Could have tried to take him back. I still could try. I saw him at…"

Sherlock interrupts, putting a finger across Lestrade's lips .

"Please don't."

"You think Arkasha's better for him."

"No. I just… perhaps you… I don't know. Just, don't. Please."

 

*********

 

Lestrade wakes, doesn't know where he is for a moment. He is hot. Too hot, bundled up in something, trussed up and uncomfortable. There is a heavy weight on his chest, holding him down. His head hurts. He struggles…

"Shhh, Lestrade. Stop fighting. _Ow_ , my _shins_. Take your shoes off."

"My shoes? Did I go to bed with my _shoes_ on?"

"Yes. We probably should have had less alcohol and more sex…"

"I don't remember having _any_ sex…"

"My point exactly."

"Christ, Sherlock. I can't cope with a hangover _and_ you being suggestive."

"Perhaps we should deal with the hangovers first."

Sherlock gets up and goes to the bathroom. Lestrade looks around, taking stock. He is, he realises, fully dressed, on top of his own bed. He tries to lie very still. Movement sets off the hammering in his head and makes his stomach lurch. He hears Sherlock rummaging in the bathroom cabinet. " _Nothing dangerous in there_ ", he thinks. " _Paracetamol, antiseptic, dermaflex…codeine…_ "

"Sherlock, don't…"

"Don't take the codeine. I know."

Sherlock pads to the kitchen and runs the cold tap for a while before filling a tumbler and washing down two paracetamol capsules. Lestrade hears him fill the tumbler again.

"Here. Take these. Drink all the water, it will help." "

Yeah. Thanks. You've still got your coat on."

"So have you. At least I took _my_ shoes off. I suppose sex _is_ out of the question?"

"You suppose right. I've got work in …shit, just under an hour. Make yourself some breakfast, if you want. I need to shower and get moving."

Sherlock scoffs.

"You are the DCI. I should think that entitles you to be a little late once in a while."

"I've got interviews. I can't be late today."

Lestrade drops his coat on the sofa. He will have to do without it today. It looks rumpled, obviously slept-in. He undresses in the bathroom, showers quickly, and wraps a towel around his waist to keep himself decent as he goes back to the bedroom. Sherlock follows him, with a cup of coffee.

"Have this at least."

"Why are you being thoughtful? Wait, is this drugged?"

Sherlock looks hurt.

"No, Lestrade. But it is milky, so you can drink it quickly without burning your mouth."

He gives Lestrade's bare torso an appreciative look as he goes back to the kitchen to drink his own tea. Lestrade sighs. He is in trouble, and he _wants_ to be.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> October 6th 2022
> 
> London
> 
> Sherlock attempts to build a working relationship with Sally Donivan.

"Do you think Detective Inspector Donovan would mind if I took a look at the Mathison case?"

Sherlock sits with his feet up on the edge of Lestrade's desk. Lestrade scowls at him pointedly until he puts them down.

"I should think she'd have you arrested if you start poking through her case files without asking her first. And then she'd blame me for the trouble that would no doubt ensue."

"Why would she blame you?"

"She blames me for everything, up to and including the fact that Dimmock has a better closure rate than her. Even without your illustrious self helping him out."

"Theo has always had a better closure rate than anyone. Apart from you, of course. He's a better detective. Less inclined to leap to conclusions."

"Don't tell Sally that. It'll make things worse. Why are you interested in the Mathison case, anyway?"

"It has some similarities to another case I was working on a few years ago. I had to leave that one unsolved. The circumstances didn't permit…"

Sherlock has a little fight with himself to keep his emotions under control. He wins, but not before Lestrade has noticed.

"Do you fancy a cup of coffee? We can take a walk past Sal's office on the way back. And you can ask her, _nicely_ , if she would mind you taking a look at her case file."

Sherlock looks sideways at Lestrade as they walk to the coffee stall down the street. He has kept himself in good shape. Sherlock knows he attends a gym two evenings a week, and jogs two mornings. His clothes sizes haven't changed in five years, although the styles and fabrics are a little more upmarket than they used to be. His silver hair is still thick, and shows no sign of receding. He has fully, _finally_ , recovered from the injuries inflicted on him during a series of difficult cases a few years ago, and can run, climb and fight as well as any other fit fifty-something.

"How is it you are alone and celibate, Lestrade?"

"What?"

"How is it…"

"Yeah. I heard, Sherlock. Why are you asking this now, in the middle of Victoria Street?"

"I'm curious as to why you haven't been snapped up."

Lestrade grins a baby shark grin.

"I've had offers…"

Sherlock sniffs

"Obviously. But you've turned them down. Why?"

"Dunno. Not what I was needing, I suppose."

 

*********

 

On their way back into the building, they are hailed by a breathless Luce.

"Mr Holmes. Excuse me, sir. DI Donovan would like a word…"

Sherlock looks round at Lestrade questioningly, eyebrows disappearing under his fringe. Lestrade shrugs, shakes his head. He has no idea why Sally Donovan would ask to see Sherlock Holmes.

"Do you want me to come with you?"

"Don't be ridiculous, Lestrade. I don't need a nanny. Lead the way, Sergeant Thompkiss."

Luce knocks on Sally's office door, then opens it to wave Sherlock inside.

"Mr Holmes for you, ma'am."

Sally smiles her thanks and Luce leaves, closing the door behind him. Sherlock waits, standing silently in front of Donovan's desk until she offers him a seat, which he accepts graciously, even though it is a hard chair with slightly too short legs, designed to put its occupant at a lower level than whoever occupies the desk chair. Sherlock understands the psychology of the chairs. He doesn't mention it.

"I never thought I'd say this, F…Mr Holmes, but I am pleased to see you back on our patch."

"Why is that, exactly, Inspector Donovan? Oh, congratulations, by the way."

"Thank you." Donovan smiles. "He's pleased. He's missed you."

"He?"

"You know who I mean. He's been miserable while you've been away. I noticed he'd brightened up over the last week or so. Couldn't make out why. But it's obvious, seeing the two of you working together. Are you back to stay?"

"I'm not sure I want to discuss the details of my life with you, Sergeant…excuse me, _Inspector_ Donovan. I actually came to ask him if I might take a look at a case file. Unfortunately, it turns out to be one of yours, and he didn't feel able to assist me…"

"Which case is it?"

"Mathison. It is similar to one I saw a few years ago. You may recall it, the Petrelli brothers?"

"Yes. That's a cold case. Do you think there are enough similarities to make it worth reopening it?"

"Possibly. I would be very grateful if you would let me look at the files."

Sally Donovan isn't stupid, and as a new DI, she is getting the cases no one else wants. She can see the benefit of using Sherlock's help, especially if she will end up getting credit for closing two cases for the price of one. She ponders for a moment, putting on a show of hesitation. It doesn't fool Sherlock.

"All right. But you share all your results and insights with me. And you look at the files here. They don't leave the building."

"Agreed. Thank you, Inspector."

He shakes Donovan's hand.

"Oh, one more thing, Mr Holmes."

"Yes?"

"Don't hurt him. He's been hurt enough."

Sherlock leaves the room, frowning.


	4. Paternity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> October 6th 2022
> 
> London
> 
> Billy and Mycroft discuss Hero's parentage

"I want to see Hero's file, Mycroft."

"I do not have it to hand, Bill."

"I can wait while you send a minion off to get it."

Mycroft smiles, his lips thin. The smile doesn't quite reach his eyes. He had been foolish to think this moment would not come, but almost three years have passed, and he is overdue to be bitten on the arse by his own idiocy.

"Yes. I suppose you can. What is it you are interested in, particularly?"

"Paternity."

"Arkady Yegorov."

"No, I don't think so."

Mycroft sighs. Makes a call.

"It will take a while. The file is obviously locked away in my personal strongbox."

He motions Billy to an armchair, offers him whisky from a cut-crystal decanter. Billy accepts, swirling his glass and watching the spirit's 'legs' form. Mycroft clears his throat.

"You saw the portraits in the family rogues gallery…"

"Yeah. All that white hair. Made me wonder."

"And you've spoken to Major Yegorov."

"No. Not yet. I wanted to make sure, didn't want to upset him if I didn't have to. It could still have been him. I hoped it was. Now I'm sure it's not."

Mycroft looks pained.

"It was for the best of reasons, Bill."

"What reason can you possibly have for telling a man he's fathered a child when he hasn't?"

"Hero needed a caregiver. You had made it very clear that you did not want the burden."

" _Before there was an actual baby._ Before Anthea did whatever deal she did with Kristof."

"Yes. But…"

"Yes, but. But after Hero was born, after I held her, I could never give her up. Could you give Lennox up?"

"No. I could not. Bill, I had no empathy for you. No idea how it would feel to have a child of my own. I thought I was saving you from a situation you were repelled by. I did not appreciate how strong paternal bonds can be. I had no frame of reference at the time."

"I know it's going to hurt Arkady when he finds out. It wasn't fair to him, Mycroft. To let him think…"

"Arkady knows."

Billy blinks.

"What?"

"He knows Hero is not his daughter. He has known from the start. He is employed as her bodyguard, among other roles he has. And I suppose you could also call him her nanny."

Billy takes a gulp of the scotch, shudders, slowly smiles a rictus grin that has nothing to do with anything pleasant.

"He gives every impression of loving her. I didn't realise he was such a fucking good liar. Should have done, shouldn't I? He's a spook, and a brilliant one. Fooled me completely. You too. Bastards, both of you. How's she going to cope with losing him?"

Billy throws back his scotch and pours himself another one. Mycroft frowns.

"Why does she have to lose him?"

Billy clenches his teeth. His smile is wide, lips pulled back in a snarl.

"You don't seriously think I can carry on living with a man who has spent every day of the last three years lying to me? Lying to me on my own brother's orders?"

"Bill, I…"

"Don't, Mycroft. Don't say you had my best interests at heart. I understand Greg. You needed my research for Sherlock." He gulps half his second glass of whisky. "And when you found out about my chromosomes, and the bonus ovary, you needed to keep them safe as well. I hope you paid him well. He did a good job, took some serious damage, over the years. He should get compensation for that."

Billy finishes his whisky, looks around for more, but Mycroft has put it away. Billy doesn't get drunk often, but when he does, he is not known for being a _happy_ drunk.

"Don't really understand Arkady though. Once he'd got me to Marrakech, he didn't need to have any more to do with me. He could have just let me go." He smiles tightly "I was fine on my own. I learned how to look after myself. Didn't need a boyfriend. You should have left me in Helsinki. But Anthea was up the duff, wasn't she? You found out when Arkady went off to do whatever it was he was doing with Sherlock, in the summer. "

He thinks carefully.

"Why did you even  _tell_ me about the baby? It would have made more sense…"

"I had planned to let you believe that Kristof's work had all been destroyed." Mycroft speaks softly. Billy has to lean forward to catch what he is saying. "That Anthea had seduced one of the men in Lausanne. You know she was capable of doing so. We were going to leave the question of paternity open. You would never have to meet the child. Her identity as a Holmes would have been kept secret, to be revealed later. Arkady argued against my plan. He thought you should be involved."

He fiddles with his cuff links, for something to keep his attention off Billy's face.

"My identity as a Holmes was kept secret. Were you planning to do the same to her? Think very carefully before you answer that, Mycroft."

Mycroft flinches. He knows what Billy is remembering. He carefully does not answer the question.

"When she was born, the child's hair made Arkady the obvious choice to be the man Anthea had 'chosen'. You remarked upon that yourself, at the time. Of course, as Hero's eyes changed, it became obvious that you were her parent, although most people would assume you were the father, of course."

"That's why Arkady argued against you. He was thinking ahead."

"I do not think so. He did not want to be separated from you. I can only assume he loves you, Bill."

Billy shakes his head.

"Yeah. I really don't get that. All these really decent, nice blokes. All really good looking, all real catches. And all wanting me. Seems unlikely, don't it? I mean, I'm a junkie. I'm antisocial. I'm ugly. I'm fairly paranoid. Not everyone's first choice of lover. But first there was Greg, then Theo, then Arkady. Oh, yeah, and there was Albert, in Canada, making sure Liam didn't do me too much damage. He was pretty. Would he have asked me out if I'd stayed out there?"

He coughs out a laugh.

"'Course, being paranoid don't mean they're _not_ out to get you, does it? I've got Lucien following me round now. Latest in the line of your classy cop tarts? Stand him down, Mycroft."

There is a knock at the door. Mycroft answers it, and takes the slim file from his assistant.

"You would prefer covert surveillance?"

"I'd _prefer_ to be left alone to get on with my life with my daughter. That the file?"

"Yes. Are you sure you want to read it?"

"Yes."


	5. Crossed wires

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> October 6th 2022
> 
> London
> 
> Lestrade and Sherlock sort out some confusion

"Hello. Haven't seen you for a while. Do you need something?"

"Company? I find myself reluctant to be alone this evening."

"Er. I thought you and Greg…?"

Sherlock flushes.

"I have indicated my own…interest in him. He doesn't want me."

"I don't buy that, Sherlock. He sometimes misses cues, and you're not very good at subtlety. Maybe you've overdone it. Maybe you need to be more direct"

"More direct than climbing into his bed and asking him to have sex with me?"

"Er. That does sound pretty direct. Did he actually say no?"

"He actually did. And this morning Sally Donovan warned me off."

"Oh. I wouldn't put too much stock in anything Sal says. She's overprotective. But if he actually turned you down…"

"He did. You're my friend, Theo. I thought perhaps we could have dinner?"

"I've got a date, Sherlock. I'm on my way out. Sorry."

"Oh. Of course. I should have realised. Your clothing indicates you are going dancing…"

"You can stay here, if you like. But I won't be back tonight."

 

*********

 

**To: GL: Did you give Sherlock the brush-off? He seems pretty upset. TD**

**To: TD: No. haven't seen him much lately. Came in to see Sally today. Seemed a bit off, but you know Sherlock. Know where he is? GL**

**To: GL: Left him at my place. TD**

**To: TD: Cheers. I'll pick him up. Have a word. GL**

By the time Lestrade gets to Dimmock's house, Sherlock is gone. He sends him a text, but gets no answer. He drives around for a while, but doesn't spot him. He does a circuit of Sherlock's regular haunts. Nothing. Blue Charlie hasn't seen him. Neither has Ellie. By ten o'clock he is starting to get worried. He breaks into Baker Street. Sherlock is not there, and hasn't been there at all today, by the look of things. Lestrade is about to call Mycroft when his phone rings.

"Sir, Freak's asleep in your office. Thought you should know."

"Thought you'd got out of the habit of calling him that, Sally. Don't start again."

"No, sir. Will you come and get him?"

"Yeah. Half an hour. Don't let him leave."

 

*********

 

Sherlock wakes when Lestrade rumples his hair.

"I'm sorry. I just wanted to use your office to look at Donovan's case file. I didn't mean to intrude on your space."

"It's all right. As long as you haven't touched anything… ah."

Sherlock has found a self-portrait sketch Billy Wiggins had done of himself for Lestrade. He looks very young, laughing at something off the page. Lestrade takes the sketch and slips it inside a manila envelope. Puts it away in the drawer. Sherlock watches quietly.

"I should have remembered. Lausanne. You were so upset when you thought you'd lost him…"

"That was a long time ago, 'Lock. Come on, let's get you home. You look exhausted. Have you eaten today?"

Sherlock shakes his head.

"Not hungry. Tea would be nice."

"Tea and biscuits at least. Baker Street? Or we could go back to my place…"

"I don't understand."

"What don't you understand?"

"You made your lack of interest in me very clear…"

"When did I do that? _How_ did I do that?"

"Ten days ago. When I asked if sex was out of the question. You agreed that it was. Emphatically."

"Bloody hell, Sherlock. Sex _was_ completely out of the question while I was dashing to get to work on time that morning." He barks out a laugh. "Definitely not at another time, though. Another _appropriate_ time. If you're still interested…"

Sherlock blinks.

"Oh. I thought… I was asking if ever…"

Lestrade smiles and strokes his thumb over the corner of Sherlock's mouth, fingers on his jawline.

"I didn't realise. Crossed wires. Sorry."

He leans in and kisses him, gently. Sherlock hums, and relaxes.

"Your place. Please."


	6. Still friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> October 7th 2022
> 
> London
> 
> Luce has a change of status. Blue Charlie is very helpful.

"i don't think that's a good idea, sir."

"I was not asking for your opinion, Sergeant Thompkiss."

"Why, sir?"

"Dr Wiggins is of the opinion that he no longer requires your protection. You will return to your normal duties. Effective immediately."

"Will I be able to stay in CID? I like working for DI Dimmock, and DCI Lestrade…"

"Your deployment within the Metropolitan Police is not within my remit. However, my recommendation is that you return to your substantive posting at Greenwich, take your Inspector's examinations, and consider what your next move should be after that."

"Yes, sir. Will I be allowed to stay in touch with Bill, with Dr Wiggins? We're friends, sir."

"If Dr Wiggins wishes to retain an acquaintanceship with you, that will be entirely his choice."

"Thank you, sir."

 

*********

 

**To: BHW: We need to talk. LT**

**To: LT: Sorry. Busy. BHW**  

 

*********

 

Luce walks down through Camden Lock and for a moment thinks he has come to the wrong mooring. The SeaGlass is gone.

He turns on his heels and walks quickly back through the market. He finally spots what he is looking for.

"I need to talk to Blue Charlie. He knows me. Lucien Thompkiss. I'll be outside the Camden Head this afternoon."

He tucks a twenty pound note into the homeless man's hand. The man nods, and shuffles off.

 

*********

 

"Hello, Mr Thompkiss. You looking for Bill?"

"Yes. He might think I'm not his friend now."

"You are though. Yes. I think you are. He's on the way to the Grand Union. Could probably do with some help. He hurt himself last time he moved the boat on his own. I've got spotters out. Give me a lift?"

Luce leads the way to his car, and Blue Charlie climbs in.

"Use your SatNav. Keep parallel with the canal. Pull in when you get to the railway bridge."

Luce drives, keeping an eye on his dash-mounted system. Charlie has him pull over three times, jumping out of the car to speak to a homeless "spotter" each time, shaking his head and handing over cash that Luce has given him.

"How far can he get on his own?"

"Probably not much further. It's hard work moving through locks, and it's getting dark. He'll have to moor up soon. He passed the last spotter only half an hour ago. We need to get ahead of him. Get to the next lock. Then we can park up and start walking back."

 

*********

 

"Need a hand, mate?"

"Yeah. Thanks…"

Billy tails off as he realises who is offering to help him tie up.

"Charlie? I thought we were mates."

"We are, Bill. And Sergeant Thompkiss is your mate, as well. Trust me on this, Bill. I've never let you down, and I'm not going to start now."

"I've had some news, Charlie. I don't know who I can trust now."

"Me. You can trust me. And you can trust Lucien here."

"You can, Bill." Luce moves close to Billy, puts a hand on his shoulder. "You can. I don't know what's happened, I don't know why you don't want me as a minder any more, but please, don't cut me off. Let me be your friend."

Billy sighs and motions them inside the SeaGlass.

"There's beer in the fridge. Help yourselves. I'll light the stove. It gets chilly at night."

Luce knows there is beer in the fridge. He had put it there, after all. He looks around to offer one to Charlie, who shakes his head.

"I don't drink. He knows that." He grins. " Got to be off, anyway. Someone I need to see. You know how to find me if you need to."

Luce nods as Charlie fades into the twilight. He shrugs, opens bottles for himself and Billy, takes them out onto the rear deck where Billy is smoking. He closes the French windows behind him to keep the heat from the stove inside and the smoke from Billy's cigarette outside.

"Where was I supposed to sleep tonight, Bill?"

"Lucien, I'm sorry. I didn't think."

"I got sacked, and you practically made me homeless. All in one day."

"Sacked? No. You're too good a copper for them to sack. That'd be stupid."

"Not sacked from the force. But taken off guard duty for you. And advised to take my inspectors exams. Prepare myself for uniform duty again. I've really only been on loan to CID." He takes a swig of his beer. "What happened? Something's really upset you."

Billy grimaces

"Mycroft's been keeping a big secret. More than one. It's kind of knocked me flat. I'm not sure what to do."

"Can you tell me? Sometimes sharing worries can help…"

"I can't, Lucien. It's huge, but I can't tell you. I'm going to have to go back to France. I need to sort stuff out for Hero."

"When are you going? Do you want me to come with you? I've got leave due."

"Lucien, you'll be defying Mycroft…"

"No. He said it would be up to you to decide if you wanted my friendship. I didn't feel threatened. I think he was just a bit sad. A bit worried."

"Talk to Greg. He'll stand up to Mycroft. He'll want to keep you on his team."

"I will. But you didn't answer. Do you want me to come to France with you?"

"I need to think, to decide what I'm going to do. I don't know yet."

"Let me make something to eat, I don't suppose you've had anything today?"

"You don't need to, Lucien. I'm a bit tired, that's all. I just need to lie down for a while. I'll use the hammock."

"Take the bed. I'm less likely to disturb you if you're in the other room. I need to make some calls. And dinner. I'm hungry if you're not."

 

*********

 

" _Lestrade_ "

"Sir, it's Thompkiss. Mr Holmes will probably be in touch to inform you that I've been stood down."

" _Yeah. He's already told me._ "

"Right sir. I need to take some annual leave starting right now. As much as I'm allowed in one go. I don't know who my new commander will be…"

" _It'll be me. I've had words with Mycroft Holmes for presuming to reassign my best sergeant without discussing it with me first. Blue Charlie tells me Bill's moved the boat…_ "

"Yes sir. I think it was a sort of reflex action, sir. Something's really upset him. I want to keep an eye on him. As a friend. So I need time off."

" _Take a week for now. You're entitled to that without any reason being required. And let me know how he is. If you need more time, we'll negotiate._ "

Luce ends the call and dials another number.

" _Hello Luce. How's things?_ "

"Is everything all right there?"

" _Yep. No worries._ "

"Good. I might need a bit of help with something…"

" _I'll get my thinking head on then._ "

"Okay. I might be visiting soon. Anything you need?"

" _Marmite. She's developing quite a taste for it. Arkady's disgusted._ "

Luce laughs

"Okay. Marmite it is."

 

*********

 

Luce walks into the bedroom to check on Billy. He needn't have bothered keeping quiet, Billy is not asleep.

"Who were you phoning?"

"DCI Lestrade. He's letting me have some leave. And he's keeping me on in CID."

"That's good. What about the other call?"

"Queenie. Just checking if everything is alright. She wants me to bring her some Marmite. Hero loves it, apparently."

Billy grins.

"Takes after me. You don't need to check up, Lucien. You're not my minder now, remember?"

"Yes. Habit. Sorry."

"It's okay." His mouth quirks into the beginnings of a wry smile. "I owe you an explanation. I was taking the boat up to Brentford. There's someone I know there works on construction. Wanted to get him to look at the possibility of adding to the superstructure, putting in an extra bedroom. It's a stupid idea. " He smiles, sheepishly. "I didn't mean to take your home out from under you. I didn't think. I'll move it back tomorrow."

Luce frowns.

"I'll help you. It'll be easier with two of us. Are you bringing Hero to London? Do you want me to move out? I can look for another bedsit."

"No. This is better than any bedsit you'd find. And it's helpful for me to have someone on board, taking care of the place. It's not a suitable place for a little child anyway. I don't know what I was thinking."

Billy puts his boots back on. It is too chilly to go barefoot on the boat, even with the stove lit.

"I'll be going back to France day after tomorrow. Come with me, if you want. Hero'll be pleased to see you. Especially if you come bearing gifts of Marmite."

Luce smiles.

"All right. We're still friends, then?"

"Yeah. Still friends."


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> October 9th, 2022
> 
> Toulouse
> 
> Billy and Arkady need to talk

Arkady Yegorov has been watching the front driveway from the room he shares with Billy. He sees a car pull in and smiles when he recognises the occupants. He dashes to the stairs, almost falls down them in his haste to get to his lover. It has been over a week since Billy was last in France, and he has missed him.

"Billi. You look tired. Let me help you…"

Billy tenses, takes a step back. Arkady hesitates before stepping toward him.

"Billi? Is something wrong?"

Billy swallows his instinctive childish retort.

"Yeah. Something. We need to talk."

 

*********

 

"She's going to be a beauty."

Luce smiles at Hero, who has kept up the tradition of the "terrible twos". She is "helping" Michelle, the housekeeper/cook to make pastry, and has covered herself and much of the kitchen in flour.

Queenie laughs. "Yeah. She'll break hearts. Arkady's really protective of her."

Luce grins.

"He'll teach her martial arts. And you'll teach her a few tricks as well, I should think. No boy will be safe."

He remembers the jar of Marmite in his bag and goes to fetch it. Hero sees it and immediately wants it.

"Marmite! Donnez-le moi."

"No, it's not for playing with, Hero. Your papa will want to share it with you. Look, I'll give it to your tante Regine to look after."

"No! Want Marmite, uncle Luka. _Pozhaluysta…_ "

Luce laughs out loud. Hero is offended, and bangs her small hands on the table, making a cloud of flour.

"She's trilingual."

Queenie quickly hides the Marmite.

"Yes. And she's got a mind of her own. She's exhausting."

"But you love her."

"I do. We all do."

 

*********

 

"I love her as if she _were_ my own."

"But you've known she wasn't. Right from when she was born. That's why you never insisted that she should be called Arkadyevna. You lied to me, Arkady."

"Mycroft insisted it would be for the best, and I agreed. She needed a fixed point in her life. It could not be Anthea. We did not know if you would want to be involved. It would be better for your daughter to have a live Russian father than a dead Finnish one."

Billy paces back and forth along the shrubbery-edged path. He turns, pokes at Arkady accusingly.

"But we don't _know_ that her father's dead. Or Finnish. Could be a dead Englishman." He catches his breath. "Or a live one. There's only two we can definitely strike off the list, and that's you and Jack. There's no other DNA test results in the file. Mycroft's latest story is that they must have been lost in the explosion."

Arkady furrows his brow, confused.

"I was told her father was Kristof…"

"He might have been. But there's no proof." Realisation dawns in Billy's mind. He smiles, shakes his head. "Mycroft's played _you_ , as well."

"I do not understand why he would do that."

"I don't either. I can't see why it matters to you who it is. You knew it wasn't _you_. You're being paid to care for her. And me. After all your complaints in Morocco about me not trusting you, you do this…"

"What would you have me do, Billi? Leave the child to be cared for by a woman you _really_ do not trust?"

"No. You're good with her. She loves you. If you had been up front with me, told me the true results of the paternity test, I would have… I don't know what I would have done, but I wouldn't be in this position now. I wouldn't be this angry with you."

He turns his back. Arkady walks around him, forcing him to look at him.

"Billi. Your wellbeing is my absolute first concern. Looking after your daughter is part of that. I have grown to love her. Like you, she is easy to love. Yes. I am being paid. But if I were not, I would have to do other work, work that could take me away from her, from you, from France, for extended periods. Is that what you want?"

"I can't believe you're so bald-faced about it. You're being paid to live…to…to sleep with me. How do you think that makes me feel?"

Arkady is silent for long seconds. Billy can see a pulse in his throat, can tell he is having trouble keeping himself under control. He takes a deep breath before he speaks.

"Is that what you think? That your brother has engaged my services as a _prostitute_ for you?"

He turns and walks away.

Billy feels sick. He knows he has gone too far. He lights a cigarette and concentrates on the smoke making little vortices in the air in front of him, trying not to cry. He cringes as he hears the crunch of leaves under Arkady's boots as he stamps back.

"I can not…I will not leave this hanging over us, Billi."

Arkady gets into his space, crowds him back against the shrubbery.

"I have told you how I fell in love with you. I have told you about my own doubts as to my suitability to look after you _because_ I had fallen in love with you. I have not been paid for any interaction with you since Marrakech, and we were not lovers then. I would not cross that line. I have told you all of this." He breathes, his voice softening. "I thought you believed me."

"You just admitted you're being paid…"

Arkady takes a step back, folds his arms, defensively.

"Da. Yes. I am being paid. But not everything is directly about _you_ , Billi. I _am_ being paid. To be head of security for this establishment. To be a mentor to Luka. To oversee Queenie, and Michelle and Claude. To make sure Anthea does not do anything foolish…"

"Not to spend time with me?"

"No, my heart. That I do out of love."

"Why did that all have to be kept secret? Why couldn't I be allowed to know any of that? What harm would it have done?"

Arkady sighs.

"It is the way the department works. Everything is secret from everyone. When Mycroft is under stress, he falls back on familiar working patterns. He has been under a great deal of stress this last few years."

Billy puts his hands in his pockets. He flushes, and bites back the next retort.

"I'm sorry. I don't want to take Hero away from you."

"I know. We will get through this, Billi. And I will _not_ stop loving you, even though you infuriate me sometimes." Arkady grips Billys shoulders, not quite tightly enough to bruise. "I will talk to you more about my work, tell you what I can. Now, talk to me about what you have seen in Luziya's file."


	8. Happy birthday, Greg

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> October 31st, 2022
> 
> London
> 
> It's the halloween party…

"Don't mention the date in his hearing, if you don't want your head bitten off."

Sally Donovan smiles.

"He hates that his birthday's on Halloween. Hates the party. Hates dressing up, but actually always comes up with a great costume. Be interesting to see what he's got for us tonight."

"Why does he go, if he hates it so much, ma'am?"

"It's compulsory for anyone above sergeant. You could give it miss if you wanted…"

"Wouldn't miss it for anything, ma'am." Luce grins. "What are you going as?"

Sally laughs. "Wait and see."

 

*********

 

How old is he, anyway? He can't be that old…"

Luce is standing with Dimmock, guarding the punch bowl and watching Lestrade as he schmoozes his way around the various dignitaries, business people and charity representatives that have been invited to the Yard's annual Halloween bash.

"Fifty eight"

"Really? He looks younger."

"Yeah. He looks good. Happy. First time I've seen him so relaxed in a long time."

"He's really good at the job, isn't he, sir?"

"Yes. He is. He'll be a hard act for someone to follow."

"Got your eye on it, sir?"

"I'd be lying if I said no. But they'll probably bring in someone from outside."

"Will he definitely go at sixty?"

"I don't think he'll hang on any longer than that. He could have retired at fifty five, but he needed the work to distract him from everything else."

"Distract him from what?"

"I'm only telling you because you're part of the inner circle. I'll deny it if I have to." He smiles at Luce's surprise. "He got hurt. Really badly, twice in one year. Both near-fatals. Both attacks put him in hospital and kept him off work for weeks. On top of that, Bill broke off their engagement, sodded off and got married to someone else. That really knocked him for six. He took a long time to get over that."

"That's why he can't be friends with him. I didn't know Bill was married."

"He's divorced now, of course. But it's not just that. They're a bit like a soap opera. They're both my friends. They've both done shitty things, and I've sided with both of them at one time or another. I try not to take sides any more."

 

*********

 

"The prize for the best couple goes to Doctor Jekyll and Mr Hyde".

Chief Superintendent Billson hands over a chrome-painted plastic trophy. Lestrade laughs.

"No expense spared, eh, sir?"

"All the more for charity, Lestrade. Doesn't do to waste money on fripperies."

 

 

*********

 

"You've gone very quiet."

Sherlock holds the egg-cup sized trophy by the stem, twirling it absently.

"Hmm? Oh. Thinking. Best couple…"

"Are we a couple?"

"I don't know. Perhaps it is a little soon to be thinking of ourselves that way." 

"Your brother wants me to join the Holmeses in Berkshire for Christmas."

"Really? Why?"

"Maybe _he_ thinks we're a couple."

"Hmm. Do you want to?"

"Do you want me to?"

"We would end up fighting, I am sure. You would spend half your time telling me to be nice to Mycroft and Mummy and the other half telling me to admire Mycroft's very ordinary baby, and the rest of the time apologising to Jack and Dad for my being horrible to Mummy and Mycroft and his boringly ordinary baby."

"Maths is not your strong point today, I take it? "

"What? Oh, don't be picky, Lestrade. I was using hyperbole, as you well know."

Lestrade laughs.

"You'll probably find the baby's the most interesting person there." He smiles, picturing Sherlock with a toddler in his arms. "Anyway, it's a bit early to decide. I might have to work."

"Surely not? Not with your level of seniority."

"If there's a murder on Christmas Day…" "

You have two very good inspectors and an excellent sergeant. Plus sundry other officers. Deploy them."

"If only it were that easy. Anyway, wouldn't you rather be with me at a crime scene than at Holmes Manor wearing a paper hat?"

"Obviously." Sherlock brightens up. "Perhaps it would be possible to _arrange_ a murder…"

"Sherlock…"

Sherlock's laughter booms around the room. Lestrade can't stop himself from joining in. He stops when Sherlock hands him the soft, brown-paper wrapped parcel he has been hiding in his Dr Jekyll coat pocket.

"Sherlock, I really wish you hadn't…"

"You don't know what it is yet. Open it."

Lestrade pulls off the wrapping paper, revealing a cashmere scarf in soft grey. 

"I noticed yours was looking a bit sad. I hope you don't mind too much …"

"No. It's nice. Thanks. It's thoughtful."

"But you would rather have been given it unwrapped, tomorrow."

"I don't like birthdays."

"I don't usually celebrate mine, either. I just thought…It might be a little early for random gifts. Your birthday was…conveniently timed."

"You're babbling. It's great, Sherlock. Really. I needed a new one. Too many bloodstains on the old one."

Sherlock wraps the scarf around Lestrade's neck, and kisses his cheek.

"Happy birthday, Greg."


	9. Odin, dva, tri

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> November 22nd, 2022
> 
> Toulouse
> 
> Hero's birthday

"Again! Again! Encore, Papa!, Encore dya-dya Arkasha!"

"Enough, Luziya. You will make yourself overexcited. Stop now. Come, give dya-dya a hug."

Arkady laughs, gathering the three year old into his arms, kissing the top of her head before passing her to Billy. Billy buries his face in her curls as she stands on his lap and wraps her arms around his neck. Arkady busies himself removing the candles from the birthday cake and cutting slices. 

"Happy birthday, Hero. How old are you today? Two?"

Billy laughs and waits for the explosion. 

"Non! J'ai _trois_ ans. I am three! Odin, dva, tri!"

"Three? Really? What a big girl. You'll soon be a grown up."

He smiles at Arkady. 

"She's so clever."

"Da. It is in her genes, I think."

*********

Arkady and Billy share the evening ritual. Bath, nightgown, soft stuffed tiger. Story. Tonight's tale is the _Enormous Turnip_ , read in Russian by Billy, who is nearly as fluent as Hero. On other nights there will be French or English stories. If Lucien is visiting, there might be a Caribbean tale to liven things up. 

After the story, Hero settles to sleep, and Arkady and Billy go downstairs for a slice of birthday cake and a glass of wine.

*********

"We need to decide what we're going to do about Christmas."

"Luziya will like to see Lennox again. And he is walking now, I think."

"Yeah. He's just started taking a few steps, Jack said. They'll keep us busy. This one on her own is enough of a handful."

"Will Sherlock be there?"

"Dunno. He quite often gives it a miss."

Arkady hesitates before speaking. He worries that his next statement might upset Billy.

"Luka thinks Sherlock is having a love affair with Gregor."

"Yeah. I know. Theo told me. They went to the Yarders' Halloween bash as Jekyll and Hyde. Won a prize."

"You do not mind?"

"No. Well, a little bit. But it's been over three years…" he smiles, kisses Arkady's cheek. "And I've got you. You're better for me. You make me behave like a grownup."

"You have me for all of my life."

He pours Billy a second glass of wine. 

"Have you heard from Mycroft about the DNA test?"

"No. He's stalling, I'm sure."

"Why would he not want to tell you?"

"If Hero's Greg's daughter."

"I will speak to him, if you like. I will bully him."

Billy laughs, bitterly.

"Good luck with that."

 

 

Note: dya-dya = uncle  
Odin, dva, tri = one , two, three


	10. The night before Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> December 24th, 2022
> 
> Berkshire 
> 
> The Holmeses gather for Christmas

"The house is beautiful. But far too large for one family."

Arkady considers the building thoughtfully.

"Perhaps half this size would be plenty. There would be room for staff, and a public room, as well as offices and private rooms."

"A bit like the Toulouse house then?"

Arkady laughs.

"Yes. The Toulouse house is an ideal size."

The taxi deposits them outside the front entrance to the Berkshire house.

Mycroft's mother stands on the top step, waiting to meet them. Her hand is on Jack Logan's arm. She is becoming frail, but is too proud to want her frailty to show in front of strangers. She barely knows Billy, and doesn't know Arkady at all. Invitations to Berkshire are very rare.

Billy holds Hero's hand as they walk up the steps. Logan ruffles her hair and takes her other hand as they go into the house. Arkady follows, feeling like the spare wheel, loaded down with overnight bags and a smaller bag of Hero's essentials; stuffed tiger, bottled water, small pack of plain biscuits, spare knickers in case of accidents, picture book.

Inside, a demilune table near the door holds a basket of wrapped "last minute" gifts for visitors; chocolates, cigars, bottles of wine. Yo-yos, skipping ropes and puzzles for children. Soft toys for smaller children. If there are not many visitors, left-over gifts are traditionally given to the local church for the new year party tombola.

Billy steers Hero away from the table. Luckily, her attention is caught by the Christmas tree. Eight feet tall, it drips with glass icicles and gold baubles. Soft, warm yellow-white lights are threaded among the branches, making the decorations glitter. It is not a tree that has been decorated with children in mind.

"L'arbre est si belle, papa."

"Oui, mais tu ne dois pas toucher, cherie."

Viola Holmes peers down at Hero.

"Oh. She speaks French. Will you have her taught English?"

Arkady scowls. He is not at all impressed with Viola Holmes or her big house or her basket of gifts.

"She speaks very good English."

Viola tips her head back and looks down her nose at the foreigner.

"Does she?"

"Да. Она говорит на очень хорошем русском языке, тоже."

Logan flashes Arkady a smile.

"Come into the sitting room. It's warmer, and a bit more child-friendly."

They troop into the sitting room. The central heating is on. Where there would normally be an open fire is a grate filled with a heap of pine cones. Garlands of evergreen surround the fireplace, and christmas cards poked into the garlands here and there add to the still-formal festive look.

Logan settles Viola in her armchair near the radiator and beckons to Arkady to join him on the other side of the room.

"Try not to let her get to you. She's having trouble dealing with the fact that there are children but no _wives_."

"She knew her sons were gay, surely? Did she not attend your wedding?"

"Yes. But I'm not sure she thought beyond the actual day. Sherlock has already had his first big row with her. There will be more, I'm sure, before the weekend is out."

"Sherlock is here, then?"

"Aye. He's out in the garden, arguing with Mycroft."

"Is he alone?"

"No. I wanted to give you a heads-up. Greg's with him. They arrived last night. Greg is fantastic with Lennox. Has he met Hero yet?"

"Nyet. No. I do not know if he knows Billi has a child. We have not been good friends for a while."

"He knows. I think he's looking forward to seeing her. I know he's looking forward to seeing Bill. Is that going to be a problem for you?"

"I hope not. But we will see. I do not want to hide away any longer."

"I'm glad you're here. Bit of moral support for me. I'm as much an intruder as you are. Maybe it's time for you and Greg to build a wee bridge, too?"

"Maybe." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Da. Ona govorit na ochen' khoroshem russkom yazyke, tozhe." 
> 
> "Yes. She speaks very good russian, too."


	11. Vodka and Caviare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 25th December, 2022
> 
> Berkshire
> 
> A little bit of bonding…

A soft rap on the bedroom door disturbs Arkady as he is dressing. He opens the door to a tired-looking Jack Logan.

"I thought while our other halves are dealing with junior breakfasts, we could have a wee breakfast of our own. Care to join me?"

"Da. A moment away from an overexcited Luziya is a luxury I will not refuse. Spazeba."

Logan leads the way through the corridors and staircases and out through the kitchen door to an old summerhouse, well away from the main garden.

"Why do you call her Luziya?"

"There is no affectionate form of Hero that I can use."

"Do you need to have a different form?"

"It is custom. It confirms relationships, status. For example, I am not sure what to call you to show friendship. Is Jack your given name?"

"Aye. It is."

"All of you Holmeses have impossible names. I have no way of showing you if I am pleased to be your friend or if I am upset with you. How do you manage this?"

"I'm good at picking up mood. I'll be able to tell, I think. With Mycroft, you have to tell him. Up front and straight. Just say "Myc, you are pissing me off". He'll either be astounded or embarrassed. If he's embarrassed, it's because he knew he was doing whatever it was that upset you."

"Yes. I see. I have to do this with Billi, too, although he is more likely to look sulky than embarrassed."

"Aye. They're a lot alike. Myc thinks Bill is more like Sherlock, but I'm not so sure."

"There are Holmes things they all have in common. I am noticing this in Luziya, too. Do you see it in Lennox?"

"Aye. He's a mind of his own. It will be interesting to see the differences between him and the new one."

"You are having another child?"

"Aye. This time I'm the father. It's another boy, due in March."

"Two sons, so close together in age. They will perhaps be better company for each other than Mycroft and his own brothers have been."

"Aye. I hope so. I hope Lennox isn't too Mycroftish with him…"

Logan pushes open the summerhouse door. Arkady hesitates when he sees Lestrade is already inside, making smoky toast on the woodburning stove.

"Morning, Ark… Arkasha. I won't say Merry Christmas because it's still a couple of weeks off for you…"

Arkady crosses the room and grips Lestrade's arms.

"Grisha. I _will_ say merry Christmas to you. Are you well?"

"Yeah. I'm all right. I was on the verge of retiring in the summer, but I'll probably stay on till I'm sixty now. Sherlock's keeping me on my toes. I doubt I could hang on to him if I didn't have work for him…"

"I do not think it is only the work that attracts him. You are looking very well, Grisha. Do you not think so, Jack?"

"Aye. Silver fox…"

"Smooth talkers. Both of you. Where's this breakfast then?"

Logan laughs and pulls out a bucket of ice from under a bench. Nestled in it are a bottle of vodka and a jar of caviare.

Arkady laughs.

"What is this?"

Lestrade grins.

"Logan style Christmas breakfast. First had this in Scotland, the year Sherlock came back from the dead. Billy really likes it…" he takes a deep breath, continues, "you could surprise him on January 7th with this for breakfast."

Logan lets out the breath he has been holding.

"What happens on January 7th?"

"In Russia, all religious holidays are dated using the Orthodox calendar. So our Christmas Day is on January 7th." Arkady grins. "Hero already knows to expect _two_ Christmases."

Logan laughs

"I bet that's expensive…"

Arkady smiles.

"Not so much. She has a small stocking from Santa Claus and her gift from Billi in December. Then Ded Moroz, _Grandfather Frost_ , brings one or two gifts in January, the day before the Christmas tree comes down. She has her gift from me in January, also."

"Sounds like you've really settled into fatherhood, Arkasha. Must be great to have a kiddy of your own." Lestrade sighs, wistfully. "I sometimes wish…"

Logan jumps in.

"The vodka's getting warm, and the toast's getting cold. Come on, you two. Merry Christmas!"

He downs his vodka, and scoops out caviar to follow it. Lestrade and Arkady copy him

"Cheers!" "Будем здоровы!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Будем здоровы!"  
> "Bóo-deem zda-ró-vye!"   
> "To our health!"


	12. Crisis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 27th December, 2022
> 
> Berkshire
> 
> Someone is coming…

" _Sir, mademoiselle Helene has disappeared."_

"How? And when?"

" _Michelle went with her and mademoiselle Regine into Toulouse yesterday. Regine had a clinic to attend, and Helene wanted to accompany her. They were to stay overnight. You have allowed this before, sir."_

"Yes. What happened?"

" _Michelle was rendered unconscious in the hotel room. She raised the alarm this morning. I drove to Toulouse to collect her. We found Regine on the airport approach road. She was unharmed, but incapacitated. I have not involved the police as yet…_ "

"Good. Wait for my orders on that. How was Regine incapacitated?"

" _Her battery pack had been removed when we found her. It was thrown into the hedge a few hundred yards away, along with her phone. The GPS had not been disabled. It is obvious we were meant to find Regine. Clearly no harm was intended to come to her."_

"And Helene is gone. Her own GPS?"

" _Not sending, sir._ "

"Claude, do you have any idea of where she might have gone? Or why? Have you questioned Regine?"

" _Yes sir. Regine says Helene has been worrying about Hero. She thinks the child may be in danger. Regine thinks she plans a rescue."_

"A rescue? From what? Or who?"

" _Foreign agents, sir. I don't know any more. Do you want me to inform Sergeant Thompkiss, sir?"_

"Yes. He can use his good contacts. instruct him to place himself on high alert."

Arkady switches off his phone and goes to find Mycroft.

 

*********

 

Mycroft and Logan are in the nursery, supervising lunch for Lennox and Hero. Billy is there too. Sherlock and Lestrade have left, having said their goodbyes earlier, and the household is beginning to wind down after the Christmas festivities.

"Arkasha, can we stay a bit longer? Viola says there is someone coming that Hero will want to see…"

"Who is coming, Billi?"

"I don't know. She was being all mysterious. Like you were about Santa Claus, when you knew it was going to be Jack dressed up and I didn't. She wouldn't say who it is. Just said it's someone important."

"Mycroft, do you know anything about this?"

"No. I am not expecting any more visitors." Mycroft looks closely at Arkady. "You look somewhat perturbed, Arkady…"

"Da. I need to speak with you, Mycroft. It is both urgent and important."

Billy waves them away

"Me and Jack can carry on here. You two go and plot whatever it is you need to plot."

 

*********

 

"We are leaving. Now."

Arkady's voice is hard and flat.

Viola Holmes puts a hand on Billy's arm.

"Please explain to your… friend that you and the child must stay."

Billy shakes his head

"I go where he goes. And so does Hero. I don't understand what you're trying to do, Doctor Holmes…"

"The child needs her mother. I know Lennox's mother has signed her rights away, but Hero's has not. She _wants_ her daughter. I spoke to her this morning…"

"Hero hasn't got a mother."

Arkady scowls and goes to collect Hero from the nursery. Billy loads their luggage, augmented with gifts for Hero, into the back of the taxi and waits for them to come back downstairs.

The wait is longer than he expects. He is starting to get concerned when Arkady appears at the top of the stairs, face tight, moving slowly and carefully with Hero in his arms.

"Ah, there you are my dear."

"Hello, Doctor Holmes. It's good to see you again."

Anthea's voice trills brightly from behind Arkady.

"Thanks for sneaking me in. I'm sorry it's such a short visit. Now, Bill, stand away from the door. I'm going to take your taxi, and you won't get in my way if you value your Russian spy friend's life. Mycroft, I imagine you value your _mother's_ life…"

Everything goes quiet for a moment as Anthea's words sink in. Muffled thumps can be heard from upstairs as Logan tries to free himself and Lennox from the nursery, where Anthea has locked them in. Mycroft stands protectively in front of his mother. He is unarmed, can do nothing more for the moment.

Billy backs out of the front door and down the steps. Arkady comes on very slowly. Hero is crying, and he tries to soothe her, all the time trying not to give Anthea cause to fire the gun at his back. He walks down one step, then a second, then stumbles, deliberately, pushing Hero towards Billy and pivoting to face Anthea in the same movement. Anthea fires.

Billy reaches into his pocket for the little handgun Arkady has insisted he carry all the time. As Arkady falls, and Anthea takes a step toward him and Hero, Billy can hear Arkady's voice in his head. " _Aim for the centre of the torso. Do not try to be clever. There will be recoil. You have one shot._ "

Billy aims and fires. The roar is deafening. Anthea falls, Viola screams, Mycroft grabs Hero and holds her tight, the taxi driver calls 999 but Billy doesn't notice any of that. He races for Arkady. There is a great deal of blood.

"Don't you _dare_ leave me, Arkasha."

"Oh, I do not want to, my heart. Is Luziya safe?"

"Yes. "

"I love you, Billi."

Arkady shudders and goes still.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reminder:
> 
> Helene is Anthea's real name. Queenie's birth name is Quentin, but she never uses it. Queenie has become a bit of a label for her, so she now goes by Regine.


	13. Consequences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> December 29th, 2022
> 
> London
> 
> Billy is in a lot of trouble, and Lestrade can't help him

"Remanded in custody."

Lestrade sighs and rubs his eyes.

"And fucking Belmarsh…"

"Can't we do anything, sir?"

"I'm going to talk to Mycroft Holmes. He might have something. I'm at the end of my resources, Luce."

"It seems so unfair…"

"He killed her, Luce. He confessed, and anyway, there were witnesses. The taxi driver. Mycroft's mother…"

"Yes sir. I'd like to visit. Will that be okay?"

"Yes. Tell him we're doing our best, eh?"

"Yes sir."

*********

Billy jumps as the cell door is opened. 

"Out you come."

The officer hustles him out of the single cell and along the corridor. Billy doesn't speak unless he is spoken to. He learned that lesson very quickly. He carries all his belongings in a plastic bag. He hasn't got much, less than he had when he was running around Europe on a motorcycle. 

"Have you been told what happens now?"

"No, sir."

"You're being moved into a shared cell. You'll get socialisation time and a work or education detail if you want it. You're lucky. We've got space in with someone who'll help you settle in and won't give you a hard time."

"Yes, sir."

The officer raps on the open door of another cell.

"Heads up, Mr Bloom. New pal for you."

"Righto, sir. Come in lad, you get the top bunk. My knees won't make the climb."

The officer pushes Billy into the cell, not too roughly, and leaves. Billy blinks. 

"Charlie?"

"Hello Bill. How are you holding up?"

Billy crumples. 

"They won't tell me anything. Oh, Charlie, my Arkady…"

Blue Charlie pulls Billy further into the cell and eases him down onto a chair, patting his shoulder. 

"Sit here for a minute. I was expecting you, so I've made some tea."

Billy looks around the cell. Apart from the bunk beds, there isn't much to see. There is a small table with two chairs under a high window. Billy is sitting on one of the chairs. On top of the table is an electric kettle and two mugs, and some tea supplies. Against the wall opposite the bunks, there is a set of open shelves. Half of them are empty. At the end of the room nearest the door, there is a washbasin and a lavatory, screened by a half-height 'modesty cubicle'. It is, in some ways, better than Billy's old squat in Camden Town. It is warmer, at least. And the bedding is clean. 

Billy wraps his hands around the tea mug. Charlie looks at him carefully.

"First things first, Bill. Don't look other lags in the eye unless I tell you it's all right. Don't ask what people are in for. Don't answer back. Don't hand out cigarettes or anything else, you'll need them yourself. Don't go to the shower block or the gym without me. Keep yourself covered up. Stay close to me. I'll look after you. There aren't many who'll take me on, and they'll have to if they want to get to you. All right?"

"All right. But you won't be here as long as me…"

"I've got ten years on my card. You'll be in court and out of here before I'm slung out. Don't worry. Now, technically, you should be treated differently from convicted inmates, because you're on remand. Innocent until proved guilty, sort of thing. But practically, the only difference is you get to wear your own clothes and you're allowed a bit more money in your bank. Not that there's much to spend it on in here. Ask someone to bring baggier jeans and some plain t-shirts. I'll lend you a pair of jeans for now. Yours are too tight."

"Charlie, how come you're in here? I wouldn't have thought of you as a villain."

"Friends in high places, Bill. I've never thought you needed as much guarding as you've had, but in here, you do. You're new to this, and soft. But you're gay, you've got tracks and tattoos, and you've obviously taken a bullet in the past. They give an impression you might not want to give."

Billy whispers

"Are you under cover?"

"Shh. I'm a dangerous felon." Charlie grins. "Now, what do you know about your case?"

"I was arrested for shooting Anthea…"

"Okay. And you confessed. That's good. You need to show remorse."

"I don't think I can. She killed my Arkady."

Billy sniffs back tears. Charlie puts his arm around his shoulders and hugs tight. 

"She didn't. He's all right, Bill."

Billy blinks. Slowly smiles.

"He didn't die? I was sure… How do you know?"

"I had a visit from Sergeant Thompkiss this afternoon."

"Why didn't they tell _me_?"

"Have you been allowed visitors, Bill?"

"No. I suppose I've not been in long enough for that. But Mycroft's lawyers could have told me…"

"It was touch and go, Bill. They might not have wanted to get your hopes up. Anyway, he's going to pull through, and you'll see him as soon as you're out of here."

"If I get out."

"Think positively, Bill. Your friend Lucien will visit you soon, I'm sure."

*********

"DCI Lestrade is furious. You should have heard him yelling at Mr Holmes. DI Dimmock as well. "

"Yeah. There's been things that have been covered up in the past. I suppose they thought this could be covered up as well. There were witnesses this time though."

Luce scrubs his hand through his curls, and scowls as his fingers catch in the tangles. 

"Viola Holmes is causing trouble. Insists that Ms Smith was Hero's mother. Says Arkady was trying to kidnap her. The Crown are asking for DNA tests."

"They won't find any of Anthea's DNA in Hero. They'll find mine. Don't know who else's. Probably not Arkady's. Maybe I'll find out who her father really is. Mycroft's been fudging. Who's looking after her?"

"Jack Logan, mostly. Mycroft, a bit. Me, when I'm not on duty. She's staying at Mycroft's place in London. None of us thought it would be clever to leave her in Berkshire. Do you want her to visit?"

"No. The last thing she needs to see is her papa in prison. Bad enough that dya-dya is in hospital."

Billy closes his eyes for a long moment.

"Lucien, I shot a woman. Killed her. How can you still be my friend?"

"There were extreme circumstances. You were protecting your child. You thought she'd killed your partner…"

"Will he be all right? They can't accuse him of kidnapping…"

"Mycroft has nipped that in the bud. Arkady will be left alone to recover. He'll be fine. Now we need to make sure you don't get convicted."

"I confessed, Lucien. It was my own gun. How can they not convict me?"

"Depends what you confessed _to_ , Bill. Self-defence, protecting a child, are extenuating circumstances. You didn't put the gun in your pocket that morning with the intention of killing Helene Smith. It wasn't murder, in my book."

"I hope the court agree with you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like Arkady too much…
> 
> Belmarsh is a modern maximum security prison in South East London. _Really_ maximum security.
> 
> Who _is_ Blue Charlie?


	14. Dada

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 23rd March, 2023
> 
> London
> 
> A whole lot of new beginnings

"In light of your previous good conduct, your obvious remorse and the provocation you clearly suffered, I am not imposing the maximum possible sentence. However, you were armed with an unlicensed firearm, which you discharged without warning your victim that you were about to do so. I feel that the seriousness of your offence warrants a custodial sentence. You will go to prison for five years."

The judge's words ring in Billy's ears. " _Five years. Five years. Five..._ " He looks around the court in panic as the guards handcuff him and start to walk him down the steps from the dock. He catches a glimpse of Arkady, eyes wide and mouth open in shock, wedged between Greg Lestrade and Lucien Thompkiss, who also look shocked.

The guards are brisk and brusque, but not unkind. They lead Billy down to the holding cell, where he will wait for the van that will take him back to Belmarsh prison. Billy hears a little kerfuffle outside the cell, and then Theo Dimmock is in the room with him.

"Bill, I'm sorry. We didn't expect…"

"It's all right, Theo. it could have been worse. I could have got life…"

"Look. I haven't got long. These guys don't like to hang around. Your legal team will get the appeal ball rolling straight away. But even if you don't make a successful appeal, you'll only do two and a half max inside. They might tag you and let you out even earlier. It depends on a lot of factors. Keep your nose clean and we'll get working for you."

"Theo, will you visit me? I didn't see Mycroft or Sherlock in court…"

"Sherlock was there, but he was behind the dock. That's why you didn't see him. Mycroft's at the hospital. His new sprog's being born."

"I'd forgotten that. Send him and Logan my love…"

"Yes. Greg and Luce were in there…"

"Yeah. I saw them with Arkady. He'll need help with Hero. He might want to take her back to France…"

"Of course he won't. He'll want to visit you as often as he can. Make sure you fill out the visit request forms. You didn't need to do that on remand, but now you're convicted there are some different rules. Hero will be able to visit. Ask for her. You don't want her forgetting you."

"Yeah. All right. Thanks, Theo. I'll be okay."

 

*********

 

Sherlock arrives at the private ward in St Mary's Hospital out of breath. Logan is inside with the labouring surrogate mother. Mycroft is outside, pacing.

"Ah, Sherlock. There is no telephone reception in this building. It is most irritating…" He tails off, seeing the grim expression on Sherlock's face. "He was convicted?"

"Yes. And given a five year custodial sentence."

"Five years."

"It seems unfair, when you compare his offence with my own…"

"Yes. I wonder if the opportunity for Melfrew-Melfrew to imprison at least _one_ Holmes brother was too great to resist…"

"The old boys' network biting the wrong brother on the arse."

There is the sound of a baby crying from the labour room. The midwife pokes her head out of the door.

"Mr Holmes? You can come in now."

Mycroft nods to Sherlock.

"I have to… Ask Lestrade to call me later. "

"Yes. All right. What are you calling this new one?"

"William. William Fergus Logan-Holmes."

"He'll call himself Fergus."

"Yes. I expect he will."

 

*********

 

Lestrade puts his feet up on his desk and closes his eyes. His back is sore and he has a headache. He has not eaten anything since ramming down a slice of toast at six this morning. His stomach had been full of butterflies then. Now it feels as if it is full of lead.

He has seen many criminals sentenced and sent to prison, but never someone who he has personal involvement with. Never someone he loves.

Dimmock raps on the door, not waiting for an invitation before stepping inside.

"Greg, do you know what Arkady's going to do? He's been staying with Mycroft, but they've got the new baby now…"

"Yeah, Sherlock texted me. Fergus, he's calling him. I don't know, T. If it was just Arkady I think Luce would invite him to stay on the boat, but that won't be suitable for Hero. He might want to go back to France…"

"That's what Bill said. But Arkady will want to visit him. He'll need somewhere in London. I'll ask him if he needs help finding somewhere."

"The flat next door to mine is up for sale. I wonder if they might rent it out instead? I know the owners. Can't hurt to ask."

"That would be great, Greg. They'd have a neighbour they know. Is it the same as yours? "

"No, mine runs across the short end of the building. Next door runs along the front. Good windows. Plenty of light. No fire escape terrace, but that's not a bad thing with a kiddy around. Two bedrooms, I think. It'll be pricey."

"I don't think they're short of a few bob."

Dimmock peers at Lestrade.

"Are _you_ all right? Have you eaten?"

"I'm a bit shaken up. I might have a pie and a pint later."

"I've got some chocolate biscuits in my desk drawer. I'll get them, and get you a coffee. You need something in your stomach."

"All right. Cheers, T."

Dimmock leaves, and Lestrade puts his feet down with a sigh. He takes off his coat and switches on the computer.

There is another knock on the door. Sally Donovan pokes her head around it.

"There's a young lady to see you, sir."

"I'm busy Sal. I don't want to see any _ladies_. Young or otherwise."

Donovan giggles

"You'll want to see this one, sir. She's got some very interesting ID."

Lestrade sighs.

"All right, Sal. Wheel her in."

He stands to greet the young lady, who turns out to be a _very_ young lady, just over a metre tall, white-blonde hair tumbling halfway down her back in ringlets tied with a green ribbon.

She is wearing a green/black tartan pleated skirt, a butter-yellow Aran knit jumper and yellow knee-socks in the same shade. Her shoes are glossy black patent leather, with t-bar straps. She carries a tiny rucksack, with a stuffed tiger poking out of the top.

"Hello. Where did you spring from? Who's looking after you?"

The child is silent, staring at Lestrade out of huge sea glass eyes. He tries again in French.

"Qui prend soin de toi, Hero? Où est ton oncle?"

"Dya-dya est dans la rue. Je me suis enfui de vous trouver."

Lestrade blinks.

"To find _me_?"

Donovan raises an eyebrow. Lestrade matches her.

"She says she ran away from her uncle to come and find me." He smiles, mouth only. "Sal, see if you can find Lucien Thompkiss for me? And get a kettle boiled. I'll need three… yeah, three coffees. And see if you can get a carton of ribena or something for madam here." He considers Hero, tapping his teeth with a fingernail. He knows Arkady Yegorov would not allow this child to roam the streets of London alone. No matter how clever she is. He grins a shark grin. "Oh, and when a big blond russian turns up, send him in to see me."

Donovan grins and goes to follow his instructions.

Lestrade picks Hero up and plonks her in the middle of his desk chair. He squats down in front of her.

"You have papers? May I see?"

Hero nods, and pulls a small envelope file out of her backpack. Lestrade takes it from her.

"Why did you come to find me, sweetheart?"

"Dya-dya says you are a très clever policeman. You can find people."

Lestrade smiles.

"I do my best. Who do you want me to find?"

Hero throws herself off the chair into Lestrade's arms. She whispers into his ear.

"Mon papa. Il est perdu…"

Lestrade sits on the floor and hugs her tightly.

"Your papa's not lost, darling. He has just had to go away for a while. I'll talk to your dya-dya and we'll see what we can do. Now, let me look at these papers…"

Lestrade opens the envelope. The first thing he sees is a sketch of himself standing outside New Scotland Yard, the rotating sign drawn very obviously behind him. The sketch is labelled with his full name and rank.

There are other sketches of him, some of Arkady and one of Sergeant Lucien Thompkiss. The sketches are obviously Billy's work.

"Papa a tiré les images. J'ai vu le signe. Le Scotland Yard."

"You showed them to the desk sergeant…" he finds Hero's French ID card. He gulps in a breath "and this. This would get you in here."

The card has all the usual information, including Hero's full name. _Hero Luziya Violette Lestrade-Holmes_.

He is still sitting on the floor, holding the card, and the child, when Dimmock and Donovan come back, Dimmock carrying four coffees, carefully, two mugs in each hand, a carton of ribena in one pocket and a packet of chocolate digestives in another.

Donovan herds Luce and Arkady, who has the grace to look a little ashamed.

Lestrade gestures Luce to take Hero to Donovan's office with her ribena. Donovan goes with them.

"T, can you step outside for a minute, please? I need to have a private word with this clown."

Dimmock raises an eyebrow, but steps outside and closes the door. Lestrade opens his desk drawer and pulls out a bottle of scotch. He pours a generous slug into his coffee, takes a sip and shudders. He turns and gives Arkady the evil eye.

"All right. I have here _exhibit A_. One carte d'identité française. Belonging to a mademoiselle _Lestrade-Holmes_. Care to elucidate?"

"Da. We wanted to wait until Billi could tell you himself. But that will not happen…"

His voice breaks and he swallows, trying to hold on to his emotions. Lestrade groans and pulls him into a bear-hug.

"I'm sorry mate. This is tough for you. But is the ID card real? Is she…"

"She is your daughter. The crown prosecution service made the papers available to Billi's legal team. I learned of it from them. Mycroft confirmed that it was true. Billi insisted Luziya's papers be amended to include your name."

"Mycroft knew? All the time he let us think she was yours?"

"Da. I always knew she was not mine. Billi and I have made our peace over this. But I thought she was Kristof's." He grips Lestrade's arms. "I would not willingly hide such a thing from you, Grisha."

"Why did _Mycroft_ hide it? I never knew her as a baby. I could have had three years…"

"I also wondered this. He will not speak of it to me, but I think it is because of Sherlock."

"Sherlock? What…"

"Sherlock wanted a child for John. He would have been disappointed that you could have a baby where John could not. Mycroft thinks also that you will want to live with Billi and your child. Again, this might upset Sherlock."

"Bill's yours, Arkasha. I won't try to take him from you. I need to think about what this all means though. Having a daughter. How it will change my life…" He notices Arkady looking very worried. "I'll need access rights. I'll want to spend time with her. School holidays, maybe. Alternate weekends. We'll need to sort something out. Maybe I can spend some time with the two of you, until Bill gets out…"

Arkady laughs with relief

"Da. Yes. We must sort out something."

"I'm a dad." Lestrade looks a little she'll-shocked. "I'd quite like to be called dad. Would you mind?"

"Of course not. I am her dya-dya. Her uncle. You are her father. In russian it is papa, like in French. It will be confusing."

There is a racket outside. A three-year old girl having a tantrum is hard to ignore. Arkady opens the door and mock-scowls at Hero, who falls silent.

"What is this noise, Luziya?"

" _He_ will not give me another biscuit." She scowls at Dimmock, who laughs. "I am hungry, dya-dya."

"We will find some dinner soon. Luziya, do you know who this is?"

He indicates Lestrade.

"Mon autre papa. Papa m'a dit que je dois le dada appeler. Il a un joli sourire."

"Quand at-papa tu dire cela, cherie?"

"À la maison de l'oncle Mycroft à Noël. C'est un _secret_. Papa sera en colère j'ai dit…"

Donovan, Dimmock and Thompkiss have crowded into the doorway for the cabaret. Donovan giggles.

"She stands just like you, sir. And her eyebrows…"

"And she's got that little crinkle in her left ear…"

Lestrade sighs.

"Yeah. Bill must have spotted the likeness when he saw us together at Christmas." He scowls at his team. "This goes no further than this team. I don't want to hear any gossip. And I need to be the one to tell Sherlock."

"Tell Sherlock what?"

Lestrade sighs again at the sound of the familiar baritone.

"That I'm Hero's father."

"Obvious, Lestrade. I'm surprised it has taken you so long to realise."

"You knew?"

"I deduced."

"Right. And didn't think to tell me."

"Billy asked me not to. Not until it was confirmed. I think he thought you might be disappointed if his suspicions were not proved correct. I assume the information is now in the public domain?"

"Yeah. I'm a dad"

"Dada"

Hero is emphatic.

"Okay, sweetheart. Dada."


End file.
